


Diversion

by Siver



Series: Final Fantasy VI/Ghost Trick [3]
Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective
Genre: Blood and Injury, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, FFVI GT AU, Final Fantasy VI AU, Gen, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 06:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17319854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siver/pseuds/Siver
Summary: Set in the Ghost Trick FFVI AUA capture, a rescue and an escape.World of Balance. Part way paralleling Locke's South Figaro branch, but from a rather different perspective.





	Diversion

**Author's Note:**

> See series notes for extra context.  
> Extra thanks to azurefishnets for helping me over some big hurdles.

Cabanela stalked into the morgue. The doctor gave him a cursory glance before turning his attention back to the body on his table. Cabanela flung himself into a nearby chair and gave the body, and the cabinets he knew contained more, a dispassionate look.

“Did you need something?” the doctor asked irritably.

“They took him,” Cabanela replied. “They’ve given the crooown to that mutt!”

“Yes I am aware. If you’re not here for an actual reason, stop bothering me. I have to deal with your handiwork still.”

Cabanela scowled. His puppet had done so well and now he’d been taken from him just like that. He wasn’t even given control. The waste! The gall of it!

His gaze half rested on the body the doctor worked on. So many destroyed. Why would they remove such a powerful and useful weapon for that thing? After all they wrought together it was insulting.

The doctor suddenly froze and stared past him, eyes widening. “Primus,” he gasped.

The mask was at Cabanela’s fingertips in an instant. It at least always remained. He slipped it on and rose fluidly to spin on the intruder.

Clever old puppet to have escaped so quickly.

Cabanela advanced as the other took an unsteady step back. Sparks flickered at his fingers and died. Feeble. He could do better than that. He did do better. If only he could give him back the crown.

“A toooy has no use wandering the halls so laaate. Go to sleep.”

He wavered as the spell washed over him, but to Cabanela’s mild surprise he remained upright. The puppet even had the audacity to attempt another spell, the lightning briefly crackling around his hand before flickering out.

Cabanela took a springing step forward, catching his shoulder and twirling around behind him. He stared at that profile—different and yet far too similar still—it had been so much better masked. Such a waste.

He was stiff under his hand and his voice came out in a weak rasp, another clear difference between them.

“Who…”

He slid his hand up to grip that chin—“I said sleeeep,”—and released him as he crumpled to the floor.

Cabanela stared down at him. Pathetic. He’d been far more useful and entertaining while enslaved. Oh well, he wouldn’t be a problem for long now.

“He was supposed to be locked up!” the doctor snapped. “You should’ve kept a better eye on him, Secundus.”

Cabanela cast him a disparaging look. “Why? He’s not miiine anymore.” He took a light step back toward the doctor and slipped the mask off. “And that’s General Cabanela to youuu Doc.”

“Hmph, you’ll always be…” The doctor trailed off and his tool slipped from his hand. “G-General Beauty! What brings you down here?”

Cabanela spun round, lightning quietly building at his hand. How dare she? She had no business down here, wretched woman.

Beauty didn’t spare the doctor a glance and looked even less impressed with Cabanela. “I’m only here to talk.” She stared down at his sleeping other then back up at Cabanela. “And isn’t this fascinating? Two of you. So that’s your secret. I always wondered how a mere diplomat turning desert rat rose through our ranks to become a General.”

Cabanela let his magic fade and gave her a winning smile as he stepped closer. “General Beauty. This is no plaaace for you. You neeever know what you might mistakenly stumble on and what dangers you’ll find.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Simple fact, baby.”

Beauty’s eyes narrowed as she looked again between the pair. “What are you?” She finally gave the Doctor her attention. “Is this monstrosity your doing, Doctor?”

Cabanela cut in before he could reply. “I’m General Cabanela. The one and only.” He prodded the fallen puppet with a foot. “And this is nothing.”

“Really. I wonder what others would think of our illustrious general and this ‘nothing’?”

Cabanela waved a flippant hand. “Whooo would believe you? Of course you could try! I’m sure our deeear Emperor would be delighted!” He surveyed his nails. “A general’s loyalty, such a fickle thiiing, tsk.”

“Do not question my loyalties, Jester.”

“Yet they are so very questionable. Poisoning an entire kingdom. His Majesty was merciful, wasn’t heee?”

Her eyes narrowed. “So you’re the source of such foolish rumours. I thought as much. Only one person here committed such an act and it was not me.”

“Waaaasn’t it? How would anyone know any differently? Causing so many inconveniences for His Majesty. His patience has limits, you knooow.”

“Yes, it does,” Beauty replied calmly. “I wonder what he would think of the truth?” She glanced down. “Or of you losing track of your charge?”

“I didn’t know you delighted in gamblin’ baby. I’m game if you are. How suuure are you that he’ll believe you over meee?” He watched her. His annoyance at her intrusion faded. This was quite fun and the sour day was sweetening. “Of couuurse, it doesn’t have to be that way…” He trailed off invitingly and bit back a laugh. As if he would ever lower himself to work with her, but let her think as she would. Let her scheme and hope. It would be all the more fun to crush her ambitions.

“It doesn’t.” Beauty agreed. “Yet. I will keep your secret, but mark my words. One wrong step, Jester, and all of the truth comes out. Do you think His Majesty would be so merciful then to a thing such as yourself?”

There it was, sly woman. “Such threats!” he said lightly. “And I won’t whisper a word of you. Yet,” he added, mimicking her.

Still, how long had she been creeping around in the dark after him? As fun as this game promised to be, he would have to see her taken care of soon as well. 

Beauty stared down in disdain. “And what do you plan to do with him?”

“What else does one do with a broken toy? Dispooose of it of course. I’m sure youuu wouldn’t mind one less of us, would you?”

“I would see you both on the executioner’s block.”

“I only see one traitor here!” he chirped. “Don’t make it two baby.”

“I see no difference,” she replied coolly. “I take my leave.”  

Cabanela swept into a low bow. “I look forward to our daaance.”

Beauty turned on her heel and strode out without a backward glance. Cabanela rose. When and how would it be best to see her killed? Such nosiness couldn’t stand for long.

“Oh doooc,” he said, turning back to him.

The doctor scowled. “Now what? You’ve caused enough trouble, Secundus. No one was supposed to know.”

Cabanela shrugged. “It won’t matter for long. Do me a favour and get the guards to take this awaaay, would you?”

“Hmph, ought to leave it to you. Clean up your own mess.”

“Ah ah, seeecrets doc, secrets. See him brought to…” He beamed.  Yes, perfect. “To the room where I woke.”

“Fine. Now leave me to my work,” the doctor grumbled with another scowl shot at him.

Cabanela pranced out of the room, feeling in a much better mood than when he entered. Let Beauty try whatever she pleased. He looked forward to the entertainment. Until then a different sort of diversion promised its own reward.

 

The old room was tiny and dim, not much more than a cell, just as he remembered. It was most importantly private. A place of new beginnings. The start of a new freedom. A rebirth in a manner of speaking.

In the centre his prisoner was bound to a chair. It had been thrilling at first to watch the torturer do his work. To watch that face stray further and further from his with every blow. The mask was cool against his own face. Soon it would no longer be necessary for either of them.

He stood back, half watching with fading interest. The first round had been enthralling. Now this was neither as fun nor as satisfying as he wanted. Not one scream. Hardly a whimper. Clinging to pride as if this pathetic broken toy had any left to hold.

“Round two. You promised me a scream, baby. Still waitin’.”

“You’ll get it,” the torturer grunted.

There was a crack. The prisoner choked back a cry and Cabanela frowned. That was closer, but not enough. He stared around the torturer at the now distorted arm bound to the chair arm when a thought occurred to him.

“Step asiiide.”

There was a neat little crunch underfoot as he approached and he stepped back. A tooth lay broken on the floor and he glanced at the prisoner. “Oops! Not of any use to you nooow anyway, is it?”

He stopped in front and was met with a narrow-eyed stare that still burned despite swollen eyes. Blood trickled down his chin, but Cabanela’s attention was caught by the bend in his arm. He caressed it and felt him flinch.

“A liiittle experiment and we know all about those, don’t we?” he murmured. He let a spark dance off his finger. Make certain he had his prisoner’s attention. He heard his breath catch. Just one small jolt in that enticing bend. The arm spasmed. His shoulder slammed back against the chair. The long awaited scream rang off the walls.

Cabanela caught his chin, carefully avoiding the blood around his mouth. His eyes squeezed shut and his teeth bared with those missing or broken on perfect display. “Muuuch better.” He spun around with a nod to the torturer. “Seee? A little creativity. Go on.”

He let the man get on with things and wondered if he should have found another. Damage was being done and the end goal was the same, yet he held such a small mind for the task.

It wasn’t long before the torturer stepped back, wiping his hands.

“Losing him,” he said.

Cabanela sashayed back to the chair and looked down at the limp prisoner.

“Time for the third rooound.” He let enough magic flow to bring him back to consciousness. His eyes drifted over the broken arm again and he gripped it. “We can break another, can’t we? Again and again.” He let a cure spell flow through the arm, felt bone shift.

The prisoner gasped and hands clenched around the chair arms. Cabanela gave him a curious look. “Does it hurt? I wouldn’t knooow.” He gave the arm a pat and stepped back. “Continue.”

He stood back, lightly drumming his fingers against his thigh as the sounds of impact and pain filled his ears. A lone musician, quite different from the symphonies of agony over the battlefield. So tiny compared to the chorus of a dying kingdom. It really was all a bit disappointing. Until a different distraction arose.

The torturer suddenly took a staggering step back and turned on him.

“I didn’t tell you to stooop.”

“My, my chest…” he gasped. “It’s burning.”

The man paled further, sweat beading his forehead, and he stared wide eyed at Cabanela. His hand clutched at his chest. He dropped to his knees.

Cabanela stared down at him. “Was the wiiine to your taste?”

“Y-you…” the man’s voice died into a gurgle and he fell face first into the floor.

Pity—he hoped he’d last a bit longer. He’d been looking forward to another more improved round. He turned back to the prisoner.

He draped limply against his bonds. Cabanela smiled at a sudden curious notion. Maybe there was still time for a last bit of fun. A parting gift for the puppet that was no longer his before they split apart forever. He’d seen enough people die by it, but if he held back enough he knew he should be able to pull him back. The one jolt had been a delight certainly; what of something more?

The lightning arced from his hands. The prisoner flung his head back with a mute cry. Legs jerked uncontrollably. Fingers twitched convulsively against the chair arms. The body shuddered and went still as if a puppet’s strings had been cut.

Cabanela took a long step forward, head cocked. “It’s not time to die yeeet. There’s still a special spot waitin’ just for youuu.”

He rested a hand against his chest and waited for a heartbeat. There it was, weak, irregular, fluttering like a caught bird. Growing slower, weaker… he shook himself out of his reverie. South Figaro was to be his grave in the land he held so dear. Let his death be a message to the newly occupied city of his beloved kingdom. He smiled wide as he took in the sight of blood and swelling, bruises he knew would only grow more obvious, nose bent out of shape, hair hanging limp and lifeless over his eyes—a perfect sight. Not a soul would truly know who this traitor was.

He carefully let the healing magic flow—enough to give him strength to stay alive, while not so much as to let him regain consciousness. It was time to go and let the guards deal with the trash.

He brushed a hand over the mask. It was no longer necessary, and yet… just a little longer, until this was really done, yes. That was right. He skipped over the body on the floor and danced out of the room. He was almost free at last.

 

He was aware of pain first. Then a hard surface and a swaying motion. Cabanela tried to drag his eyes open in a task that seemed monumentally difficult. Maybe he didn’t have eyes. He couldn’t find his face after all, only a mass of pain.

There was cloth in his mouth. A gag, his mind slowly supplied. Remove it. He tried to move his hands and only then noticed the cold touch of metal around his wrists.

He finally got his eyes part way open, enough to squint. Wood floor. Wooden walls. He lay on his side, his arms manacled behind him. A cautious movement and a slow look down that sent the room spinning revealed his ankles in a similar state.

He closed his eyes in a vain effort against the rising nausea. Not now. Not like this. Slow breaths. Hard to breathe through the pain. Hard to breathe through the gag. For once he regretted waking.

There was a sudden sound of voices. He vaguely wondered if he missed their approach or if he’d lost consciousness again.

Focus. Any information was good information at this point.

“Coulda been going to Narshe!”

“That cold heap of junk in the middle of nowhere? I’ll take guard duty thanks.”

“Some guard duty. Shipping around a filthy traitor or joining the invasion force? Think of the glory of bringing back an Esper!”

An invasion force? An Esper in Narshe? He’d heard nothing of that.

“Heard it was just a frozen hunk of ice.”

“I don’t see why we have to bring him all the way to South Figaro anyway. It’d be a lot easier if we could just dump him overboard.”

“Shh!”

“Come on, who’s gonna care here? Who’s gonna know?”

“You don’t know who’s listening. Do you want _him_ to find out?”

“Okay, okay. Geez I didn’t mean it.” He dropped his voice. “Don’t know who that freak thinks he is anyway.”

“Shhh!”

He heard the door open and squinted. Two sets of legs entered.

“Who is this guy anyway?”

“Does it matter? Just a traitor. You heard our orders.”

A hand clenched around his hair and he was hauled up into sitting. The gag was yanked away and a cup forced to his lips. Water splashed against his chin, running down to his neck and chest, but what he did get was a relief on his throat.

Cabanela tried to speak, his voice scraping out and making him wish he’d gotten more of the water. “Who…”

The guard’s hand slammed into his face, knocking him back to the floor. His vision blurred as the jarring impact sent a fresh wave of pain through his skull. The gag was forced back into his mouth and he tried not to retch. The guards’ retreating footsteps were painfully loud to his ears, until at last he was left in blessed quiet.

He let his eyes close. Try to rest. This was obviously a ship. Escape wouldn’t be possible here. But, South Figaro… he knew the place well enough. Once there he could get away, he could find a way back… stow away on an Albrook-bound vessel. It wasn’t much of a plan; it hardly warranted the word, but it was something. He had to get back to Vector…

Only the guards’ visits gave him any sense of time passing as he slipped in and out of consciousness with little awareness of which was which. Nightmare, a living nightmare—he saw no difference. Hauled up and given water. Dropped back into the void. Dropped back into that tiny room. He failed, his loss spilling with his blood. The blows never ended. He was going to die. Maybe he had and this was a new hell while a blank mask filled his vision.

Something changed. He was dragged up again—this time to his feet. A rough grip around his arm kept him from falling back. Two guards, one on each side marched him into the corridor and he tried to think through the fog. This could be it. He focused on staying upright, easier said than done on legs that felt both detached and like leaden weights. Bide his time. Wait until they were off the ship where he could get away and there would be places to hide.

Out on the deck the salty air and noise washed over him and he staggered.

“Move,” one of the guards growled and he was yanked, stumbling after.

Down the gangplank. Solid ground under his feet and the old familiar sight of South Figaro’s docks met his blurred gaze.

He flexed his fingers reaching for a spark of any magic and found nothing. He’d never felt so drained.

The guards marched him forward. People stepped away, heads bowed. If Cabanela had been more aware he would have noticed a general harried and distracted air to the place that was none of the bustle he was used to.

But all he saw were obstacles and a slowly dwindling chance for escape as they left the docks and approached the main city.

He feigned a stumble that in truth took little faking. The guard made an annoyed sort of sound and tried to haul him back. Later he knew it was a desperate and stupid move, but all he could think of was getting away and the abrupt lunge forward held hope for catching them off guard at least.

A sharp blow sent him reeling and the pavement rose to meet him.

 

Something touched his face. He flinched. He was bound to the chair and the blows rained down.

“Sorry!”

The word came out in a hissed sort of whisper and made no sense. What made even less sense was that it sounded somehow… familiar. He dragged his head up and his eyes open.

He wasn’t in that cell of a room, but his current surroundings weren’t much better. A trade of one small stone room for another of stone and wood. His arms were stiff and aching, chained to the wall, and by the feel of his legs those chains were about the only thing keeping him upright. A low roar sounded in his ears, growing louder then quieter; nothing made sense.

All of it faded to the familiar and unexpected sight before him. Three years since he saw her last, but he knew that face and that red hair.

He swallowed and tried to find his voice. “Lyyynne?”

Lynne gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. Her voice was a strained whisper between her fingers. “Cabanela?! You’re the traitor?”

He struggled to think. Traitor? What did she mean? He’d never betray them and he tried to find sense in his own swirling thoughts and Lynne’s presence here. One key point still stood out.

“Vector… Have to get back.”

Lynne stared. “You’re set to be executed. You go back there and they’ll kill you for sure.”

No. That couldn’t happen, not while He was still imprisoned. “Jowd…”

“Jowd…” Lynne repeated, eyes widening. “You found him?” She shook her head. “No, not here. Hang on.”

Lynne stepped away. He watched her move to the side of the room where a small man sat on a chair, his head bowed down to his chest. The roaring suddenly made sense. If he could have found it in himself to laugh he would have at the sheer absurdity of the situation. The guard was fast asleep, his snores ringing loudly through the room. Lynne bent and returned swiftly with a keyring where she set to work on his chains.

He hit the floor. Lynne grimaced. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Not a problem if he could find his legs. And there was the wall behind him. He braced himself against both floor and wall and very slowly started to push himself up. Lynne offered a hand which he ignored. He felt if he changed his positioning now he would only fall. He dragged himself up bit by bit until he finally stood upright, leaning heavily against the wall on shaking legs.

Lynne chewed her lip. “There’s a tunnel out just past here. This could be difficult,” she admitted. “But we’ve got to get you out.”

“I need to get to the docks. Show me a way out and I’ll be out of your hair baby.”

“Uh uh, no way. I’m not telling Alma I let you go.”

Alma… Would a trip to the castle be such a bad thing? While he didn’t have Jowd, he could at least update her and recuperate a little. On the other hand a delay would lead to his absence being noticed. The element of surprise was still in his favour. Which went so very well the first time, a traitorous thought said and he’d been in better shape then than now.

“A smaaall visit to the castle might not be a bad idea,” he conceded. And he couldn’t deny the swell of hope at seeing Alma again.

“Narshe,” Lynne said quietly, casting a worried look over him. “Alma’s in Narshe, which is farther… but the castle might not even be back yet,” she muttered. “And even then… that could be…” she trailed off.

Cabanela stared at her as the guards’ voices came back to him. That had been real, that much he knew. “No, what’s she doing in Narshe?” She was supposed to be safe in Figaro. One of them had to remain safe. “An invasion force is set for Narshe.”

“Oh no,” Lynne gasped. “The Esper.”

So she knew of it as well. How had he let this all slip past him? He pushed himself away from the wall. “We have to go.”

“Right.”

Lynne looped an arm around his and he forced himself not to pull back. This was _Lynne_ and there were far more important matters now.

They moved too slowly for his comfort, but stiff and aching legs refused anything faster than a hobble. When they made it out into the hall a man stepped out from the shadows.

“There you are,” he said.

Lynne gasped in a breath before glaring at him. “Don’t do that!”

He shrugged. “You knew I was here. Anyway no sign of anyone coming yet.” He looked at Cabanela. “So, who is this guy anyway?”

“Uhh…” Lynne said. “This is er…”

“Cabanela,” Cabanela supplied. “And youuu are?”

The man shot a look at Lynne. “That’s not…”

“Not now,” Lynne said, with a frown directed at Cabanela. Something more studying than annoyed he thought. “This is Sissel,” she said hurriedly and continued. “Sissel, we’ve gotta go. Narshe is in danger. There’s an invasion force on the way.”

“No point standing around here anyway,” Sissel said.

Cabanela leaned on the wall for support. “After you.”

Their path seemed to consist of endless corridors which did have the advantage of there being little to pay attention to while he turned his focus on staying upright, keeping one foot in front of the other, and catching brief whispered snatches of conversation from Lynne and Sissel.

“You sure about this?”

“Alma will want to see him. We’ll just have to be careful.”

Alma… They would make it in time. He failed to bring back Jowd this time. He wouldn’t fail her in this.

Sissel suddenly stopped. “Wait, I hear footsteps behind us. Coming pretty fast too.”

Lynne turned, drawing her daggers. And a few seconds later the sounds of rapid footsteps reached Cabanela’s ears as well.

Two guards ran toward them from back the way they came. Lynne and Sissel leapt forward to meet them. Cabanela instinctively reached for magic that wasn’t there and cursed his lack of weapon. The best thing he could do was stay back and out of their way. Knowing that made it no easier as the guards yelled and went immediately for the attack.

He needn’t have worried. Lynne and Sissel made short work of them and they lay in a collapsed heap on the ground. Lynne sheathed her daggers with a sigh.

“I hope that’s it. The sooner we get out of here the better. Er, Cabanela?” she asked as he approached one of the fallen guards.

He eased himself down to retrieve one of their swords. It wasn’t ideal—both shorter and more crude than his old blade, but it would have to do. He could only hope it would be some time before he had to use it, he thought as he stiffly straightened and winced from a fresh wave of pain.

“You’re not in any shape to fight,” Lynne said and he noticed her hands still around her dagger hilts.

“And yeeet we’re still pursued,” he replied pointedly and made his way back to the wall before the floor made good on its threat to slip out from under him.

Lynne relaxed and fell in step with Sissel. They continued the long slow way out. He caught more bouts of murmuring between them but couldn’t muster the concentration to focus on anything they said. It was getting harder to breathe comfortably and the air was cold and clammy. A sharper intake of breath sent pain shooting through the remnants of one tooth and he cringed at the gap where another had been.

A soft touch on his arm startled him. Lynne stared up at him.

“Are you okay to keep going?”

“We keep going,” he said shortly and took a longer step despite the ache in his legs. One step at a time. That’s all it took. They would make it. They would make it.

The exit came at last and they found themselves out in the grass while sunlight danced around them. The warmth was greatly welcome, the brightness less so on aching eyes, though it was a relief over the dim rooms and halls he’d seen far too much of lately.

He passed a glance back toward the city as they moved on. The farther they went the farther away from Jowd they grew. He’d failed him twice now, hadn’t even gotten close the second time. A simple wrong turn landed him in this mess. It was almost laughable. If he’d waited longer, would it have gone better? It seemed a good plan at the time—get away swiftly and try again; no one would expect the attempt so soon. He’d been too disoriented, far more than he’d thought at the time.

It wasn’t a lot better now if he was honest.

Who had that been in that room? What had that room been? He vaguely remembered seeing someone or a body on the table and a man standing over it. However it was someone else who occupied his attention. He couldn’t shake the blank white mask from his mind’s eye. Someone else with magic. Low words that seemed somehow familiar, yet he couldn’t place how.

“…Cabanela!”

Cabanela startled and realized that not only was Lynne frowning at him again, he was also under the distinct impression she’d been trying to get his attention repeatedly now.

“The cave’s just ahead,” she said. “Maybe we should stop for today? We’re well away now anyway.”

Cabanela shook his head. “We can make it through the cave before nightfall.” And farther he hoped.

“ _We_ can,” said Sissel, “but can you?”

“I’m fiiine baby. Let’s go.”

Lynne sighed. Sissel shrugged. Cabanela ignored them both to stride forward. Stopping now was out of the question. He knew this cave; he’d passed through many times on his trips between Vector and Figaro. This was only another trip.

It didn’t prevent the shiver that coursed through him as the warmth faded and the cave’s chill air took hold. The pathways weren’t wide, yet Lynne still kept closer than he thought necessary.

The flickering torchlight blurred and stabbed at his eyes. Keep moving. The damp chill wrapped around him—when was he ever so cold? Keep moving. His face throbbed—deep and nauseating. Keep mov—his foot caught on an uneven patch of ground and he pitched forward.

The next seconds passed in a blurred frenzy as Lynne caught his arm and pulled him back and he tried to catch his balance and not drape over her. When they stabilized they hardly had time to enjoy it before the ground and walls rumbled and started the whole affair over again.

Cabanela fell against the wall, clung to it, and felt faint tremors still.

“Is that normal?” Sissel asked.

“I’ve never felt anything like that here,” Lynne replied. “Was that some kind of earthquake?”

“I don’t beliiieve so. Best we get out quickly.”

They pressed on carefully. There was another rumble as they progressed. Sissel cocked his head.

“I hear something. Grinding? Sounds… big.”

Lynne look nervously about them. “I hope there isn’t a cave-in.”

“Sounds… metallic?”

Cabanela tensed and pressed a hand to the wall. He could still feel faint vibrations. “Stay on guard. Keep movin’.” There was a possibility. If he was right, what was it doing _here_?

“Do you know what it is?” Lynne asked.

“Nooo, but I have a guess. The longer we stay the more we’re in danger,” he prompted and hoped he was wrong. On another day maybe but not while his head was determined to swim.

The rumbling grew more frequent and severe as they drew near to the exit. They were almost there and their escape looked promising when there was a sudden crash behind them. Rocks split and Cabanela wished he could have been wrong this time.

A great metal contraption rolled out on a giant wheel. Drills spun ferociously.

“What the?!” Lynne exclaimed.

Cabanela backed up a step, gripping his sword. “Tunnel armour, a weapon from the Empire. It can use magic.”

“What?!”

“Which I can absorb if you’ll hooold if off,” Cabanela continued lightly. And that would solve one of his problems.

The machine rolled toward them. Cabanela felt a tingle of magic and held back just in time to realize it wasn’t coming from the tunnel armour, but from Sissel. Lynne suddenly blurred and leapt forward faster than his eyes could track. Fascinating. Unfortunately, he didn’t have long to dwell on it before he felt a more powerful surge building from the armour.  

Flames arced and sped toward him only to be sucked into his sword. A warmth washed through him bringing with it a comforting familiarity. He tried to focus, not helped by the blurs that were Lynne and Sissel moving at inhuman speeds. He wasn’t the only one with magic here it seemed.

He only needed an opening and he would be able to provide some assistance. However, instead of the usual words something else rose to mind. He spoke without thought, feeling as if he was first casting lightning all over again, so long ago when he’d acted on instinct. This was different. Warm… soothing except for a sudden uncomfortable pressure in his face. Then the pressure faded and some of the pain with it.

He almost dropped his sword in shock even as a new excitement ran through him. Cure magic! How? How long had he been able to cast it without realizing it?

He just managed to raise his sword in time to catch the flash of lightning. And that too was channeled into more healing. His tongue ran over newly restored teeth and he grinned. More than one problem solved.

It took multiple attempts. His healing was clearly limited, but Lynne and Sissel did well in holding the machine off. He watched carefully for an opening. He could only absorb so much magic at once and while his injuries were taken care of he still felt weak and achy. The right timing at the right point and then he spotted it.

Lynne had managed to get on top of the thing, while Sissel distracted it, dodging deftly out of its way almost seeming to dance around it. Lynne removed a plate and was going for what he assumed was wiring underneath. A good opportunity.

“Lynne! Hop down!” He raised a hand, letting the lightning build.

Lynne flipped off and landed near. Lightning cracked down in the gap she left and the machine shuddered and sparked. There was an ominous creaking and then it went still, sparks still dancing about its wiring.

“Guess that’s it, huh?” Sissel remarked when it continued to remain still.

“Yeah. That thing was nasty,” Lynne said and turned on Cabanela. She stared and her eyes widened. “You… look better.”

“The Empire sent quiiite a gift baby,” Cabanela said cheerily. He nodded toward the nearby exit. “Shaaall we?”

Lynne and Sissel exchanged a look. A lot of those looks were shared, Cabanela had noticed. And he had some questions about Sissel’s little tricks to ask too, but it could all wait. For now they needed to move.

“Right, let’s get outta here before something else shows up,” Lynne said and the three made for the exit.

Evening had fallen by the time they got out. Cooler than when they’d entered, dryer and welcome for it. They could keep going, Cabanela judged. And if they could stop by the barracks they could borrow some chocobos and make the journey all the smoother and faster.

His joy and burst of energy weren’t to last. As they moved away from the cave, his legs put up a last protest and his knees hit the ground.

“Dammit, not nooow…”

Lynne and Sissel turned.

“Looks like a good camp spot to me,” Lynne said, looking around.

“We still have time,” Cabanela grated as he tried and failed to pick himself up off the grass, all limbs refusing movement.  

“ _I’m_ tired,” Lynne said firmly. “And I bet you are too, right Sissel?”

Sissel shrugged. “Could use a nap.”

“Right.” Lynne clapped her hands together and further protests were ignored as she and Sissel set to making a fire and setting up a tent.

With far too much effort than was ever fair Cabanela managed to turn himself over to sit. The desperate urge to keep moving faded as exhaustion took its hold, leaving him heavy and slow. He accepted food from Lynne and stared at it, trying to recall when he’d last eaten. It was hard to get much down and his gaze wandered over the crackling flames dancing in a hypnotic blur. A numb static filled his mind chasing out all coherent thought. There was no pain keeping him here. Nothing to hold onto in this moment. He could just… drift…

Lynne looked up at a soft thump. Cabanela had slipped sideways into a limp sprawl across the grass and was clearly deeply asleep. Lynne sighed over a small bout of worry.

“I don’t know how he made it this far, but I wish he made it to the tent. Give me a hand would you?”

Together Lynne and Sissel lifted and moved him into the tent. He hardly stirred a muscle. Once they got him settled they returned to their fire outside.

“I don’t get it,” Sissel said. “That is Cabanela, right? The guy who was after me?”

“I… don’t know,” Lynne said with a nervous look at the tent. “He doesn’t seem anything like that creep. He… You weren’t in that room. He was so desperate to get back to Vector for Jowd…”

“The old king of Figaro, right?” Sissel asked.

Lynne nodded. “Yeah… And well, it’s not easy to tell right now, but he seemed so much more like the Cabanela I used to know. He didn’t seem to know you either.”

“He could’ve been lying.”

“Maybe… but there is no way anyone could’ve faked the rest of that, not even him. Something happened.”

“Yeah, I’d say something happened all right,” Sissel said with a look of his own shot at the tent. “So what now?”

“We keep going. We have to warn Alma. We’ll just have to be careful and watch him that’s all. Between the two of us we’ll be fine! But, right now I’ve got food to eat and sleep to catch. We’ve got another long day tomorrow and I don’t know about you, but I’m wiped.”

“Can’t argue there,” Sissel agreed and stretched out in front of the fire, nibbling at his food for the rest of a peaceful evening.

Lynne stared into the fire. To think they’d only gone to South Figaro to scope out the situation and gather information. She never imagined they’d find him of all people there. Was his betrayal his failure to get Sissel back? Had he been planning something else all along? She glanced at the tent; no answers there yet. She would have never imagined seeing him so weakened. That didn’t make much sense either.

She sighed. Whatever was going on they’d work it out and if he had news of Jowd that could only be good. She wondered what Alma would do. She hoped they would make it in time to warn everyone.

No point in worrying. She’d had the right of it the first time. Eat and sleep. They’d take everything else as it came.

 

In the deep hours of the night, Cabanela turned over restlessly with a murmured “Jowd.” Their journey took them away but he would make his return. He only had to hold on.


End file.
